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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28828293">My Boy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jukie626/pseuds/Jukie626'>Jukie626</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Chan, Child Abuse, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Hogwarts Era, Hogwarts First Year, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, One Shot, Peter is not a good guy, Sexual Abuse, Shotacon, Squick</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:42:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,206</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28828293</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jukie626/pseuds/Jukie626</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron is Peter's boy. Peter loves his boy more than anything in the world.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Pettigrew/Ron Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>My Boy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written in an hour. The idea of a grown man sleeping with a little boy disguised as a pet really bothered me and I'm surprised more people haven't explored that more.<br/>Contains the fantasies of a pedophile. You've been warned.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I love to watch the boy as he sleeps.</p><p> </p><p>I am his pet. I am allowed to be with him wherever he goes. In his pocket, on his shoulder. My boy is good to me. He doesn’t stuff me in his schoolbags like his brother, who owned me before. He is gentle with me, giving me scraps of food, stroking me, letting me sleep by his side. It was like this back at his home, which is full of good food for me, and plenty of places to hide and be alone with my thoughts.</p><p> </p><p>He is my boy. My greatest pleasure is to sprawl out by his neck, breathing in the deep smell of boy, just now on the cusp of puberty. The smell is intoxicating. I burrow myself into his deep red hair, like soft copper, his eyelashes golden in the candlelight, his breath warm on me.</p><p> </p><p>He takes me to his classes, to his meals, to the washroom. To the others, I have only little beady black eyes, for nothing else than spotting crumbs on the floor, but I watch him instead. He is a beautiful boy, and all for me. Bathtime is my private show. A harmless rat, perched on the faucet, my fur a bit damp from the steam. Soap flows down his freckled chest, his pinkish belly and young prick. I drink in the sight; it’s all I live for these days. My boy is a pleasure beyond food or even the thought of my Lord coming back for me.</p><p> </p><p>The scene is familiar. I too was here once, and like him I was the small one, always trying to catch up. I wore the same uniform as him. I know every stitch, where to crawl, where to hide. The warm places. The boy drives me crazy. Some nights I want to pin him down and see the fear in his blue eyes as I rape him, feel the fluttering of his heartbeat and panting of his chest like a terrified rabbit. Instead of a rat, I will be the wolf, and I will tear him apart. I will make him bleed and cry. But then, other nights, I scare myself with those fantasies. I think instead of making love to my boy, my beautiful Ronald. I will stroke his bright fiery hair and kiss him, wipe away the tears and run my hands across his shaking body. I will teach him. I will show him that a boy and a man, or a rat, is not such a scary thing.</p><p> </p><p>I put up with his little experiments on me, practicing turning me yellow or making me disappear. I grin and bear it. I operate like a humble rat, obedient and docile. Trevor and Hedwig are easy to ignore, and they never ask questions.</p><p> </p><p>Like him, I would often cry alone in my bed, feeling unwanted. Perhaps it was this very dormitory that I was in once, maybe this very bed, but they all look the same.</p><p> </p><p>I am his comfort. I flick my hairless tail across his nose, paw at the wetness on his cheeks. His copper eyelashes hide blurry tears. He holds me tight and sniffs.</p><p><em>“Scabbers,”</em> he says sometimes. <em>“You understand me. You’re my best mate. I’m so glad I have you. I love you.”</em></p><p>Or maybe I want to hear it so bad that I do.</p><p> </p><p>I know this school well. Every corner, every dead end, every secret passageway. Sometimes I yearn for the days where my friends and I could be wild and free, when I was useful and almost part of the group. But these daydreams never last long. My tiny ears pick up what they say about my boy.It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Children are cruel. Friends are worth almost nothing. I wish I could tell my boy that. If only I could speak while in my rat form, instead of inarticulate squeaking. To whisper in his ear at night, to be his subconscious. To tell him that he doesn’t really need them, they’re mean to him, they use him.</p><p> </p><p>I could be the secret weapon. I could use him. I could promise him everything, his favorite foods, brand new robes and a spot to be Head Boy, anything he wants. Besides the mudblood, his best friend is the son of my former friend, the one who I so desperately wanted to impress despite him treating me like, well, a pet. It would be easy to lure them someplace, to my Lord. I would get a great reward. I fantasize about that day, when my Lord would praise me and give me my boy as a prize. I would chain him up in my room, and I would fuck him. I would be gentle, as he has been gentle with me. I would talk sweetly to him. A few times since returning to the castle I have found an isolated place where I can transform, even for a few seconds. Years as a rodent haven’t treated my human self well. I’m hideous, I know. If my boy saw me, a disgusting old man with matted hair and long fingernails, he would scream and run from me. First chance I get, I’ll clean myself well and cut my hair and nails, so as not to scare him. It makes me giddy, like a teenager again, knowing I am breaking the rules and being so perverse in my endeavors. If I were my true self, I would be locked up, yet because I am an insignificant animal, I can get away with anything.</p><p> </p><p>At night, I slide into his pajamas, down his chest, soft and warm under my feet. He squirms, and this makes me dizzy with excitement. How grotesquely perverted it is, to crawl across his tender eleven year old body, licking him, dragging my tail along his skin.</p><p>He thinks it’s just a game. He giggles, <em>“Scabbers, you get out of there!”</em> His hands fumble down his shirt, trying to catch me. I get close to the forbidden place, where only a few copper curls are beginning to grow. He pulls me out, laughing at my silliness. I am but a stupid rat. His cluelessness is somehow even more of a turn on.</p><p>It would be easy to take him. I could use his wand. I could use a silencing spell and draw the curtains of his bed shut. I would blindfold him, so he can’t see my true form, and I would listen to his muffled sobs and frightened moans as I fuck him. It occurs to me that I could do this every night, and then simply obliviate him. He would never know. I could erase all evidence of the deed, although leaving semen on his stomach would be a dirty thrill. But no, not yet. Too risky. Too much at stake.</p><p>Instead, I eat the pieces of chicken and carrot he gives me at the table, I sleep in his pocket while he endures class after agonizing class. I watch him through beady eyes. At night, I curl up on his chest and breathe in the scent of my delicious, angelic boy.</p><p>One day, he will be mine.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading. Let me know how my writing is, I'm trying to improve.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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